


Missing Pieces Of Memory

by sweetcarolanne



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Drinking, Demons, Horror, M/M, Temporary Amnesia, Vampires, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 16:26:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8998231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/pseuds/sweetcarolanne
Summary: Lestat awakens from what appears to be a bad dream, and finds out that his life up to that point is not at all what it once seemed to be...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadow_lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_lover/gifts).



> Dear shadow_lover, I absolutely love your prompts and was inspired to write you this treat! I hope you enjoy it! :)
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters and am making no money from this. Many thanks to my beta who wishes to remain anonymous.

Lestat found himself waking as if he were a child recovering from a nightmare. Vague reminders of nausea and confusion swam in his brain, and his mouth was full of the taste of strange blood that was neither mortal nor vampiric in nature.

He lay not in his coffin, but on a four-poster bed with a red velvet coverlet and a canopy of heavy brocade in the same bright scarlet hue. As his eyes slowly came into focus, he saw a familiar figure approach, and his beloved bent to kiss his brow, concern and relief both evident on the radiantly beautiful face that always reminded Lestat of an angel painted by some great master from the Renaissance.

“Armand,” Lestat whispered passionately, and his lover smiled.

“I am so relieved to see you have recovered your senses, and that you know me again,” Armand said softly, sitting on the bed beside Lestat and taking Lestat’s hand in his own. “Hopefully this means that you are within your right mind again, and will remain so. And I hope also that there will be no further escapades like this one that could have left you dead, or a raving maniac for all eternity.”

Lestat tried to sit up a little, but Armand gently pushed him back.

“Not yet – you are not ready to face the world right now, _mon amour_ ,” Armand told him, lovingly but sternly. “You have been very ill after tasting the tainted blood of that creature, and for a while, I feared that I had lost you to insanity. You are weak, and must rest before you can go out into the world to hunt.”

Armand placed his slender wrist over the parched lips of the one he loved and whispered, “Drink.”

Lestat bit deep into the offered veins, feeling an ecstasy that far transcended the pleasure of killing a mortal. Armand’s blood tasted sweeter than nectar to Lestat, rich and restorative, bringing back the strength that he was gradually beginning to remember losing.

The cold dark eyes of the one he had last fed from returned to his fractured memory, and he shuddered.

Something about the man’s unearthly beauty, the grace with which he moved that no mortal could ever emulate, and the way in which he was able to shield his mind from even a powerful vampire should have warned Lestat that this being could not possibly be human. Danger, however, was like an aphrodisiac to Lestat, and when he was at last alone with the slim young man in a darkened alleyway, he could not resist the opportunity to tear into the delicate flesh of such a willingly offered throat.

And the blood… no taste had ever seemed as exotic and enticing as the vital fluids of this strange boy who neither struggled in rage and fear nor swooned in rapture when Lestat sank his fangs into him. He gave himself with an almost sensual surrender at first, but soon sardonic laughter seemed to echo in the ears and brain of the vampire, and the victim’s heart would not slow and stop no matter how harshly Lestat bit and sucked. Nor would his body weaken despite Lestat’s intensified attempts to drain him.

Visions of horror and madness had begun to swirl in Lestat’s mind – the accusing faces of all his victims seemed to rise before him in blinding fury, searing the remnants of his soul like hell-flames, calling for him to be burned alive and cast down to eternal doom at the feet of Satan. Somehow he had managed to pull himself away from the tempting blood and evil laughter of the creature, and had staggered home to fall in a dead faint the moment that Armand had opened the door.

He recalled little else after that, except for the uneasy sensation of emerging from a hallucination.

With a firm yet gentle grip on Lestat’s shoulder, Armand pushed his lover away, forcing Lestat to release his wrist. “That’s enough,” he said, his voice and expression all tenderness and worry. “This man – or demon – that you drank from, his blood must be pure poison to our kind. Only your maker’s blood can help you heal, but you must not take too much.”

Lestat looked at Armand in disbelief and sorrow. “My maker is long dead – you must know this by now! Magnus…”

“He was an illusion, created by your fevered nightmares. Magnus has never existed, and you never made a vampire of your mother, Gabrielle, or of your former lover, Nicolas… if there is a heaven, they are with the angels now. The immortal child Claudia was real, but she never died the gruesome death your disturbed mind pictured as you slept. She lives still; she left you long ago to reside with a female vampire in Paris, and she has forgiven you.”

Armand sat back and gazed upon Lestat, his enchanting eyes full of compassion still. “You see, my wild and glorious one, my very reckless love, although I cannot read your thoughts, I could somehow – perhaps through the weakness the demonic being inflicted on you – see into your dreams as we both slumbered.”

Lestat’s eyes widened, and he gasped. “You cannot read my thoughts…” he murmured, struggling to recall his waking world as it truly was, fighting to retrieve the missing pieces of his memory. “And you gave me your own blood as a healing tonic… What are you trying to tell me now, Armand?”

“Lestat,” Armand said imploringly, entwining their fingers and gripping his beloved’s hand even tighter, “Look deep inside yourself and you will know the truth. I loved, admired and wanted you from the very first moment I saw you on the stage. Your aristocratic good looks, your passion and your flair for the dramatic captivated me from the beginning. I became obsessed with you, returning night after night to the theater. And one evening, as the full moon rose and you were making your way homeward from carousing at a tavern with the other actors, I took your mortal life away and gave you the endless existence of bliss that stretches out before you now.”

He lowered his head to kiss Lestat again, this time lingeringly on the lips, and Lestat know instinctively that his beloved could never lie to him.

“Tell me one thing, please, before I have to lapse once more into yet another tedious round of sleep,” Lestat said, his devilish sense of humor sparking to life as if he was already his old self again, making Armand’s eyebrows rise slightly and bringing a small smile to his angelic face.

“I know you well enough not to need to read your mind about this. It’s obvious what you are going to ask of me next,” Armand replied, pressing his palm tighter against the other vampire’s. “Yes, _mon cher_ ,” , Louis is real. He is out there somewhere, waiting, and when you are well, we shall venture forth and find him.”


End file.
